The Shining Falcon

But he hadn't the strength. The fever burned in him, and he was weary, too weary for defiance.

«No…» Finist said weakly, and sank back into the world of dreams. «Maria, where are you? Maria…»

Ljuba, drenched, let out a hiss of frustration. Weak as he was, dangerously ill as he was, where had Finist found the strength to resist her?

He could only have found it, she realized abruptly, in the discipline necessary for true magic. And for a moment, Ljuba caught herself staring down at him with all her old jealousy. But jealousy was ridiculous right now.

And of course, a magician's mind was schooled to control arcane forces by will alone, so it wouldn't yield so easily to something as natural as disease. Even iron-enhanced disease.

Akh, but that very stubbornness was endangering Finist's life. Once his mind finally surrendered to her control, once he stopped weakening himself by defiance, his body would begin to heal—she was sure of it. She'd carefully diluted her potion to the point where it should only be helping him by relaxing that fierce will. But he wouldn't surrender, and all her attempts to feed it to him were meeting with failure.

And would he never stop moaning for his dear Maria? Ljuba frowned, astonished to feel a twinge of pain mingling with her rage. Still… what if he called to her with such longing in his voice… ?

Akh, foolishness. She was getting soft‑minded for want of rest. Ljuba rubbed tired eyes, trying to remember when she'd last had a chance to sleep, really sleep. Slowly she got to her feet, shedding the potion-soaked caftan and slipping into a fresh one. She dared do no more than nap, not till Finist was safely under control and out of danger.

Aie, there he went again, calling for Maria!

«Maria, Maria, Maria!» Ljuba mocked under her breath. «Let me see what your little slut is doing. Ha, shemust have forgotten you by now!»

Sasha bowed low before his master, stalling for time, try‑ing desperately to think of some gentle way to deliver his news.

«Sasha?» Danilo had risen from his table so quickly he still clutched a precious glass goblet. «Come, man, out with it! Is there any word of my daughter?»

No, Sasha decided, there wasn't any gentle way. «No, master," he confessed, and then added formally, «I regret to tell you that neither our men nor those of our good Prince Svyatoslav have been able to find the slightest trace of the boyarevna Maria.»

«That's impossible!» Danilo snapped. «Sasha, don't lie to me!»

«Oh, I only wish I were!» Sasha said miserably,

«But… My lord, your daughter seems to have… vanished. She might have run off into the forest, see, to elude us.» He stopped, wincing, hating what he was going to have to say next. «The—the forest is large. A young woman lost in there might… never be found.»

«No!» It was a shout more of pain than of rage. «I won't accept that. I can't!»

«I'm sorry — "

«Sorry! Is that all, that you're sorry?» Danilo knew if he didn't shout, he just might weep. «Get out of my sight!» he stormed. «Go back out there and search, and don't dare to return unless you — "

«Father.» Vasilissa laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. «Don't be afraid. I'd know it were Maria… dead. She's alive and unharmed, I swear it.»

«Akh, Lissa, you can't be sure of that.»

«I can.» Vasilissa's mouth tightened in a grim line. «And I can guess what's become of her.»

«What do you mean?»

«Send men out to search the forest, yes. But also send an envoy to Kirtesk, to the court of that—that sorcerer!»

Danilo gave his daughter a sharp, searching glance. She might be delicate of mind, he couldn't deny it, but there were also times when she spoke with surprising wisdom. Who knew? Maybe Maria's sorcerous lover had been waiting to meet her and carry her off.

«Yes," Danilo said slowly. «Thank you, child. I shall send men to Kirtesk, whether our Prince approves it or not! And should it turn out that this—this sorcerer-prince has connived to take advantage of Maria's innocence, if he harms her in any way…»

The boyar clenched his hand so fiercely about the goblet he'd been holding that the delicate glass shattered.

Ljuba drew back in disgust at the sight of Danilo, his hand bleeding, staring blankly ahead with hatred in his eyes. «That's the father of Finist's beloved?» she murmured dryly, letting the image fade. «Oh, my dear fool of a cousin, you might as well have fallen in love with an out-and-out burner of witches!» So Maria was gone, was she? Run off to find Finist?

Ljuba gave a little cry of mingled rage and contempt it the thought of her out there somewhere, trying with all the earnestness of her pious little soul to follow her lost love. It was as irritating as a thorn Ljuba couldn't read to remove.

Of course, Maria would almost certainly get lost in the forest, or murdered by bandits, or eaten by something.

But what if she didn't?